A New Player
by Em Phantom
Summary: Moriarty's Great Game was going splendidly, that is, until he picks shrunken detective Edogawa Conan as a hostage. With two genius detectives working together, will Moriarty still come out on top? Or will he manage to bring the Black Organization to London?
1. Chapter 1

**It's been awhile since I've posted on this website, but I was hit by a plot bunny today and needed to write it out. Here's the first chapter of what I know will be quite a few, though I have yet to determine exactly how long it turn out to be. **

**For Sherlock, this takes place during "The Great Game" and for Detective Conan, this after the "Mystery Train" case, in which we find out the identity of Bourbon.**

**Cover Credit: deviantART's ~kayainu**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Detective Conan.**

* * *

His mouth felt like it was full of cotton. He swallowed, trying to rid himself of the overwhelming feeling of dryness, but only succeeded in making his mouth feel even more parched. An oddly sweet scent filled his nostrils, and there was a pounding in his ears. He clenched his eyes tightly in order to dull the light shining through his eyelids, adding to the pain in his head. He could feel the harsh coldness of concrete against his cheek. As his muddled brain began to work once again, he began to make sense of what all this could mean and immediately stilled. Slowly lifting his lashes, he examined the room he found himself in. The wallpaper was peeling and he could see mold making its way down from the ceiling. The floor was a cracked concrete, and there was nothing to be seen inside the room. There was a filmy window near the ceiling to his left, and he could just make out the street beyond the small opening.

Keeping his breaths even, seven year old Edogawa Conan closed his eyes, quickly sifting through the information he had just gathered. The analytical mind of teenage detective Kudo Shinichi got to work, efficiently putting the clues together. The sweet scent could be affiliated with chloroform, which would explain the muddy feeling in his mind and why he could not recall arriving in this room. The poor shape of the room probably meant that he had been stashed somewhere where people would not think to look for a missing child, most likely in the basement of a condemned building of some sort. The fact that he was alone meant that his captor was confident that he would not be going anywhere anytime soon, either because of the influence of the drug or just that he was an innocent looking child.

Blue eyes opened once again, determined to learn more about his situation. This time he turned his gaze to his body, frowning when he noticed the bulky winter coat that he had been changed into. He was unrestrained, and a quick scan noted that his gadget shoes, belt, and watch were all still accounted for. His glasses were still perched on his nose, and with the GPS technology in them he would quickly be able to ascertain his location, especially seeing how he still had the ability to move his arms. Conan slowly sat up, frowning at the weight he felt on his torso. He carefully unzipped the heavy jacket and his eyes widened upon seeing what was under it. Strapped to his chest was a vest of explosives, and he quickly determined that his captor must have some motive other than holding a child hostage.

Taking a deep breath, Conan cautiously removed the winter coat, eyes trailing over the mess of wires that crisscrossed over his torso. The different colors on the wires were encouraging, and with some examination, Conan could easily decipher where each wire connected. The design was simple enough, and it seemed that his kidnapper hadn't considered the thought of the possibility of a hostage who knew how to disarm a bomb, let alone a kid who was physically seven. He had no knife or scissors on him, but Conan figured if he could break a lens on his glasses, he'd have an edge sharp enough to slice through the wires he would need to cut. Before ruining his gadget though, he would need to figure out where he was.

Conan pressed the button on his glasses, and instantly a map appeared on the lens. The English names threw him off for a second before he remembered he had been in London at the time his memory abruptly cut off. Minerva had invited him back to the English-speaking city as a thank you for saving her life, now that tennis season was over. Wanting an escape from everything going on in Japan with the discovery of Bourbon's identity, Conan had jumped at the chance, and so he, Agasa, and Haibara were all spending the week in London. They had meant to keep a low profile in order to ensure that the Black Organization's attention was not on them, but clearly something had gone wrong with that plan.

A loud beep tore him from his thoughts and Conan's eyes narrowed, instantly scanning the room for the source. The sound continued, and he cautiously reached into the pocket of the coat, brow furrowed as he pulled out a pager. _"There is a cell phone to your left,"_ darted across the small screen in English, and Conan turned his head to the left, where sure enough a small cell phone was placed innocently on the ground. Eyes narrowed, he picked up the phone and flipped it open. Another beep sounded from the pager and he turned his attention to the screen as the words, _"Call the programmed phone number and read exactly what is written here. If you stray a single word, you won't like the consequences." _At that a red light appeared on Conan's chest, originating from beyond the window. The light was an aiming beam from a rifle, telling Conan that he was being watched. Another glance around the room revealed a small camera mounted above the door, red light blinking menacingly.

Small fingers maneuvered through the phone's data, quickly locating the stored number. Eyes still narrowed, Conan called the contact, eyes turning back to the pager. Halfway through the first ring, the phone was picked up, and a deep baritone answered, "Yes?" The diminutive detective instantly deduced that the speaker was native to London and in his late twenties, and had been expecting this call. The anticipation of his tone was riddled with frustration as well, resulting in the clipped voice that had answered.

"I hope you enjoyed my last puzzle, dear," Conan read, innocently tapping his finger against the phone, resulting in small beats to pass through to the person on the other side, "because this one is a real challenge. You have seven hours." The boy bit his lip, praying that the speaker would say something so that he could continue his tapped message.

"Wait!" the voice called, sounding desperate. "Why are you doing this?"

Conan's eyes were still glued to the small screen, but he continued with his tapping. "I like to see you dance," he read, closing his eyes in relief as he finished his hidden message. Upon completion, he followed the instructions and flipped the phone closed, smirking to himself.

* * *

Several blocks away, Sherlock Holmes shoved a phone into his pocket, and a grin spread across his face. "Finally, someone intelligent!" he crowed, standing from his seated position and turning to face his flatmate John Watson.

John's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? He sounded just like the others, reading from a script," he responded.

Sherlock's eyes sparkled, and he replied, "It wasn't in what he was saying." He rubbed his hands together in glee. "The hostage knew Morse Code. He was telling me his location."

* * *

**Please review, and let me know what you think!**

**-Emily**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! I was a bit surprised at the reaction this fic got, especially considering it's only been online for about a week. Thank you to everyone who put A New Player on their favorites or alerts, and thanks to everyone that reviewed.**

**Just in case you missed it, last chapter there was a brief explanation on why Conan, Haibara, and Agasa are all in London. I'll expand more on it later, but just in case you've forgotten, here it is:**

_Conan pressed the button on his glasses, and instantly a map appeared on the lens. The English names threw him off for a second before he remembered he had been in London at the time his memory abruptly cut off. Minerva had invited him back to the English-speaking city as a thank you for saving her life, now that tennis season was over. Wanting an escape from everything going on in Japan with the discovery of Bourbon's identity, Conan had jumped at the chance, and so he, Agasa, and Haibara were all spending the week in London. They had meant to keep a low profile in order to ensure that the Black Organization's attention was not on them, but clearly something had gone wrong with that plan._

**That being said, I hope you enjoy chapter 2!**_  
_

******Cover Credit: deviantART's ~kayainu**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Detective Conan.**

* * *

"Sherlock, wait!" John Watson called, following Sherlock as the taller man wrapped a scarf around his neck and pulled on his coat. "Wouldn't the kidnapper notice if we're not trying to solve the next case?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and, upon reaching the street in front of 221B Baker Street, lifted a hand to hail a cab. "Of course not," he answered. "He's being held across from Bart's. We need to go there anyway for the case." With that, he swung open the door of a cab that had pulled up alongside them, and hopped in. With a sigh, John followed, and the cab sped off to Bart's Hospital.

* * *

In a hotel room across London, a brunette girl paced in worry. "Has he answered yet?" she inquired of the portly scientist who was seated on the bed. "Kudo-kun has been missing for five hours now."

"He could be on a case, Ai-kun," Agasa Hiroshi offered, not quite believing his own reasoning.

"Do you have the spare tracking glasses?" Haibara Ai asked, frown marring her serious face. "I have a bad feeling." Her eyes darkened as she thought of the possibilities, foremost in her mind related to the very organization that was desperately trying to hunt her down.

Agasa wordlessly handed the glasses to the girl and she slipped them onto her face, pressing the button on the side. A transparent map appeared before her eyes, and she quickly scanned its entirety, almost instantly locating the blinking dot near the hospital. Haibara grabbed a ball cap from her bag and shoved it onto her head, before pulling her coat on. "I'm going to find him," she told the portly scientist. "I'll be back later, with Kudo-kun."

"Be safe, Ai-kun," Agasa called as she exited the hotel room. A small smile flitted across her lips as she shut the door behind her. Saint Bartholomew's Memorial Hospital here she comes.

* * *

According to his stun-gun wristwatch, it had been nearly an hour since he had placed the call. The red beam had long since disappeared, and Conan had popped the lens from one side of his glasses shortly after. Subsequent to this, he managed to break the small lens, giving him several sharp pieces of glass. He had then turned his attention to the bomb and begun the process of disarming it, slicing through the correct wires. This bomb was nowhere near as sophisticated as some of the others Conan had disarmed, so he had minimal difficulties figuring out what to cut.

Finally finished with the explosive vest and confident that it could not be set off, the shrunken teen removed it from his person and placed it underneath the window, where a sniper would not be able to shoot it. Pleased with himself, he made his way to the wooden door. He had yet to test if it was locked, but he had concluded that if he were to make a move towards it, his captor would set off the explosives. Now that that option was negligible, Conan felt confident that he could try the door without exploding.

He cautiously reached his hand out for the doorknob, and hurriedly pulled it back when it turned of its own accord. Conan's eyes narrowed and he stepped back into the middle of the room, eyes locked on the door. It swung open, and in the threshold stood a man in a pressed Westwood suit. The man walked into the room and shut the door behind him, placing his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall casually, eyes never straying from Conan. "I must say, you've piqued my interest," the man said, a slight Scottish tint to his voice. "I've never had a hostage that could disarm a bomb before, let alone a child."

Conan frowned, deducing not only that the man before him was the culprit behind his imprisonment, but that he had watched him disarm the bomb without any attempt made to stop him. That meant that he was interested in Conan's abilities, and the diminutive detective had just proven that he was more than just an innocent child. "Who are you? What do you want?" he questioned after a moments silence.

The man's lips pursed. "Jim Moriarty. Now if you could be so kind as to return the favor? My men didn't find out who you were before they grabbed you." Conan filed that into the rest of the information he had gathered. He had now deduced that the man, Jim Moriarty was in some position of authority within the crime world. His crisp Westwood, confident air, and intricate hostage plot (between the sniper, camera, and the pager, he must have planned for nearly everything) all pointed towards authority, and now knowing that he had ordered someone else to commit the actual crime added to that conclusion. From the phone call he had been forced to make earlier, Conan could conclude that Moriarty had a rival in a detective, and that Conan was not the first hostage to serve as Moriarty's mouth.

"Conan," he replied shortly. He then turned his tone to that of a curious child in attempt to throw the man off. "Who did you have me call? Was it the police?"

Moriarty rolled his eyes. "The police are complete imbeciles. There's never any fun in challenging them," he said, and then paused. A smirk widened across his face and his eyes danced. "You'll learn that soon."

The detective blinked, torn from his deductions. A sinking feeling began to form in his stomach and he stared up at the criminal, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" he inquired, mind racing in a new direction now. He could no longer afford to wait to be rescued.

"If Sherlock Holmes can have a pet, why can't I?" Moriarty asked. He strode forward, and Conan used that as an excuse to fall to one knee, his hand brushing against the dial on his shoe. Feeling the thrum of electricity, Conan brought his arms to his torso, one resting above his belt buckle. He needed to wait for the right moment.

"I'm going to have to turn down your offer," Conan said, eyes gleaming. He watched as Moriarty lifted an eyebrow at his confidence, still smirking.

"I think you'll find that you don't have much of a choice," the man said.

With that proclamation, Conan took a deep breath and rose to his feet. "I'd like to see you try and make me," he said. He then pressed the button on his belt and got into a ready stance as a soccer ball instantly inflated. As it fell to the ground, Conan aimed a high powered kick at the man's head, grinning as it connected. Having knocked Moriarty to the ground, Conan sprinted to the door and wrenched it open, leaving and shutting it behind him. He then began to sprint down the hallway towards what he hoped was the exit of the building.

* * *

**Sherlock and Haibara are on a collision course and Moriarty is interested in Conan. Please review, and I'll see you guys soon with the next installment. **

**-Emily**


	3. Chapter 3

**Greetings, wonderful readers. Here's the next installment of A New Player. I'm constantly astonished by the response this story is getting, and thank you so much to all of my readers! Reviews are always lovely so thank you to those of you who have been leaving me them. They always manage to make my day :)**

**This story also now officially has cover art! After much searching, I contacted someone on deviantART for permission to use their image (I wouldn't be able to draw anything even remotely comparable), so now A New Player has wonderful cover art.**

**Cover Credit: deviantART's ~kayainu**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Detective Conan.**

* * *

Haibara Ai bit her lip as she exited the black cab in front of Saint Bartholomew's Memorial Hospital, hat pulled low over her face. Her analytical eyes swept the surrounding rooftops, and she swiftly spotted the snipers perched in several buildings. They were all pointed towards the building across from the hospital, matching where the GPS locator in the glasses was indicating. She turned off the map, crossed her arms over her chest, and watched as the cab sped off in the distance, before turning her attention to the building across the street. With the presence of snipers, she couldn't just approach the door without a risk of being shot.

As she pondered how to make her way into the building, a cab pulled in front of her and two men swiftly got out. The first was tall and lithe, dark curls and piercing blue eyes; the second was shorter, blonde, and muscular. The dark coat and scarf combo of the first contrasted with the simple button down and cardigan pair worn under the second's jumper. Like her, the tall one's eyes were locked on the decrepit building across the street from the hospital, and she saw the shorter man's eyes dart to the snipers.

"Sherlock, there's snipers," the cardigan wearing man said.

The other rolled his eyes at his companion. "Do stop stating the obvious, John. I thought you'd have learned that by now," he responded. He began to turn away from the man when his eyes met Haibara's and instantly narrowed as they raked over her body. Haibara forced herself to remain calm as the strange man examined her, a scowl setting in on her face.

"Did you want anything?" she asked after a moment's silence, a glare leveled at the dark haired one.

"You're foreign, but very confident in your English, meaning you were raised speaking it, probably in America due to your accent. You are clearly worried about being recognized, hence the hat and glasses you don't need, but you are out on the streets of London anyway," he deduced. His eyes flickered down to her hands. "The scars on your fingers show that you're a chemist—no other profession produces chemical wounds such as that—but you've been doing it for a long time, so you must be a prodigy. Which poses the question: what is a child doing with dangerous chemicals?"

Haibara's eyes narrowed and she brought her hands to her hips. "Excuse me? Who are you?"

"Confidence: you're used to speaking with adults and being listened to," he continued, ignoring her.

"Sherlock!" the other man called, interrupting his train of thought. He then turned to Haibara and knelt down to be eyelevel with her. "My name is Dr. John Watson and this is Sherlock Holmes. He's a detective. I'm very sorry about this…." he trailed off as he realized he didn't know what to call her.

"Ai Haibara," the scientist answered shortly. "I prefer to go by Haibara. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm busy."

"Looking for your friend, correct?" Sherlock asked. "He's in that building," he stated, nodding his head towards the structure across the street. Haibara nodded in response, still frowning. "Well, it appears we are on the same case.

"I don't need your help," Haibara said firmly. "It'd be best if you stayed out of it."

John frowned and stood up, moving to stand next to his flatmate. "Stay out of it?" he questioned. "This is our case! The phone calls have been coming to us."

"Phone calls?" the girl muttered. "That's not how _they_ typically operate."

"_They?"_ Sherlock repeated, a gleam entering his eyes. "Now this is getting exciting. That would be who you're hiding from, correct? And your friend must be protecting you from them. Yes, I see it now. He's protected you for so long that you feel guilty now that he's gone missing, and feel that it's your responsibility to save him."

Haibara's eyes narrowed at him. "You don't know anything," she spat. "How did you even discover where Edogawa-kun was?"

Sherlock smirked. "Edogawa-kun, hmm. You're Japanese, and familiar with the victim, yet formal enough that you still call him by his last name. Edogawa _is_ his last name, correct?" At her jerky nod, Sherlock continued, "Despite the formality, you still trust Edogawa above anyone else, and are wary about our involvement because you don't understand our intentions. As for how we knew, he told us."

"Told _you?"_ she asked, eyebrow raised. "I'm sure that if Edogawa-kun could contact anyone, he would have called me."

"Moriarty was using him as his mouth," Sherlock said. "If he were to stray from any of his instructions, he would have been blown up. So Edogawa called me and repeated everything Moriarty told him too. But he was smart. Told me in Morse code where he was. Now what about you, how did you locate him?"

"GPS," Haibara stated simply. "Now are we going to rescue Edogawa-kun, or are we going to stand here all day?"

John took this as his cue to reenter the conversation. "Well, if we go anywhere near the entrance, the snipers will probably shoot us," he said. "Maybe if we took out the snipers first?"

"Excellent," Sherlock said, eyes turning to the men perched on the surrounding buildings. "There are three of them and three of us. We each take one and reconvene here."

"Sherlock! You can't expect a child to take out an assassin!" John snapped. "I'll get two—"

"I can handle it," Haibara interrupted. "Don't worry about me."

"Then it's settled," Sherlock proclaimed, and then he turned on his heel and walked down the street towards the location of the first sniper.

John sighed and turned his gaze to the brunette child standing before him. "Alright then," he said. "Are you sure you don't need help?" His scrutinizing gaze rested on her face, unnerved at the serious expression planted on it.

Haibara nodded, eyes locked on the sniper opposite of where Sherlock was headed. "It'll be child's play," she said with a smirk. She too walked away, leaving John standing before Bart's alone. He gazed up at the sniper on the hospital's rooftop—his obvious assignment. With another sigh, he entered the building.

* * *

**A bit of a break from Conan, but now that Haibara, Sherlock, and Dr. Watson plan to take out the snipers, Conan should be able to get out of the building scot-free. Stay tuned to the next installment and we'll see what happens with Conan's escape plan.**

**-Emily**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again! Much apologies for the delay - I was busy with my siblings birthday (we went and saw The Book of Mormon) and then with Thanksgiving...and school... Updates should become fairly regular again (my goal is about once a week), with the exception of mid December (Finals)**

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, or put this story on their alerts. It means a lot to me!**

**Cover Credit: deviantART's ~kayainu**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Detective Conan.**

* * *

Heart pounding in his chest, Doctor John Watson ran through the hallways of Saint Bart's, ignoring the startled looks of the employees. Upon bursting through the entrance, John leaned over, hands on his knees as he sought to regain his breath. He had successfully knocked out the sniper on the hospital rooftop, and had quickly dissembled the gun, before sprinting back down through the building. He knew he needed the time if he were to help the child that Sherlock was confident could take down one of Moriarty's assassins, and as soon as he regained his breath, planned to go and protect her.

"Good, you're back," a young voice said. John shot back up, eyes wide as he gazed at the young girl. He hadn't believed that the child would be able to win against the mercenary, and it shocked him to see her leaning against the wall. "Holmes-san and I have been waiting for you."

John blinked, sure enough, the tall detective was standing next to the kid, eyes locked on their targeted building—the one that her friend was being held in. Shaking his head, he said, "Right then. What's our plan?"

Before anyone could answer him, they heard a loud bang as the door to the building they had been watching slammed open. A small figure darted out, head sweeping every which way to ascertain his surroundings. A chuckle reached John's ears and he and the detective turned their attention back to Haibara, who was now grinning. "So, Edogawa-kun did manage to find a way out. I was starting to doubt his abilities," she mused.

* * *

Feet pounded against the floor as Conan sprinted throughout the decrepit building, determined to find the exit before Moriarty or any of his minions could stop his escape. Any future captivity would have much tighter security, and Conan doubted he would be able to find a way out, especially now that Moriarty was aware of some of his gadgets. Noticing a staircase ahead, the diminutive detective bounded two steps at a time, weary relief rushing through him as he laid eyes on what must be a front door. He was already pushing it open and standing on the sidewalk before he remembered that there had been snipers surrounding the building, and he quickly turned his attention to his surroundings, desperate to search them out. However, each rooftop was suspiciously empty, and a frown made its way onto his face.

Conan brought his gaze down, instantly spotting Haibara across the street. She was flanked by two men, one of which was watching him with narrowed eyes. Conan frowned, aware that the largest part of his disguise—his glasses—were no longer perched on his nose, and that the man's stare made him feel oddly naked without them. Shaking the thought out of his head, Conan glanced behind him once more to ascertain that no one was exiting the building of his captivity, before quickly moving to join his friend on the opposite side of the street.

"Here," Haibara said as he approached, holding out the spare glasses. Conan muttered a quick thanks as he took them from her and slipped them on his face, grateful for the concealment they provided. Having Moriarty after him was one thing, but if he discovered that Conan was actually Kudo Shinichi, Conan would be in deep trouble. "That took you awhile."

The shrunken detective frowned at his friend. "I was out with chloroform for most of it, and then I had to disarm the bomb," Conan explained. He turned his attention to the two men eyeing him curiously. His intelligent eyes rested upon them, deducing what he could. The shorter man stood rigidly, like he was used to standing at attention but had fallen out of practice. They look in his eyes was dark, leading him to the conclusion that the man had been in some sort of armed services, which the outgrown military cut blonde hair supported. The calluses on the tips of his fingers told him that he used the computer a lot for writing purposes. Small scars on his hands, of which could only be the result of scalpels, led him to deduce that the man had been a doctor; therefore, he had probably served as an army medic.

The other man was taller than the first, with dark hair and bright eyes. His high cheekbones gave him an aristocratic look, as did his attire. His shoes were polished, but were well worn. Looking at his hands, Conan's lip twitched upon deducing that the man must play the violin, similar to himself. There was a slight trace of chemical scars on his hands, showing that he used dangerous chemicals on a semi-regular basis, but not for a profession. It was the man's eyes that were the most striking of all, however. His eyes were examining Conan not unlike he was examining the man, revealing the intelligence. It was almost as if—Conan grinned as he realized just who this man must be.

"Sherlock Homes, correct?" he asked, smirking at the man. "I see you figured out my message."

The now identified detective's eyes narrowed, "Obviously. You must be…Edogawa, yes?"

"Conan Edogawa," the child said in response. The hairs on the back of his neck raised and he quickly looked up, searching for who he felt must be watching him. His eyes locked onto a shadowy figure on the top floor of the building he had been held in. The person wore a crisp suit, drawing Conan to believe that it was Moriarty himself in that window. "It's not safe here," he said suddenly, causing both the still unidentified man and Haibara to look at him in confusion. Sherlock had followed his gaze and was now staring at the window, eyes narrowed. "If I'm right, he has eyes everywhere."

Sherlock nodded at the boy's words, still gazing up at the figure. A slight frown marring his lips, he said, "To the flat then. John, would you hail a cab?"

Rolling his eyes at his friend, the army doctor stepped closer to the curb and raised a hand. Shortly after the movement, a black taxi pulled up beside him, and he opened the door and entered. Sherlock quickly followed his flatmate, leaving both of the shrunken teens alone on the sidewalk. They exchanged a quick glance before Haibara too entered the cab. Conan turned his gaze up once more, frowning upon noticing that the window was now empty. Unwilling to remain out in the open, Conan got into the cab and pulled the door shut behind him, gaze lingering on the building as they cab started down the street.

* * *

**Conan and Sherlock have now crossed paths, but the conversation has been cut short. And if it was indeed Moriarty watching them from the window, where did he go? Stay tuned for the next chapter and don't forget to review.**

**-Emily**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello again! I would like to apologize for the delay - the semester was winding down and I had to start registering for classes and things like that. Oh, and I participated in Disneyland's Candlelight Processional (a truly magical event), so that ate up some of my time.**

**Thanks to everyone that has reviewed, put this on their favorites, or on their alerts. It means a lot to me, and I hope you guys keep coming back for more.**

**Special thanks to my long time friend, Amanga, for helping me make sure that everyone stayed in character. Without her wonderful ability to understand my intentions and amazing skill at helping me convey them instead of putting things in and then assuming everyone would understand my reasoning, these chapters wouldn't be half as good as they turn out.**

**Cover Credit: deviantART's ~kayainu**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Detective Conan.**

* * *

The unusual quartet had stayed relatively silent throughout the cab ride, and now was gathered in the living room of 221B Baker Street. The two first graders were seated side by side on the couch, John on his favorite chair, and Sherlock himself was standing, arms clasped behind his back as he stared out the window. Uncomfortable with the silence, John took it upon himself to start the conversation once more. "Right! Introductions are in order. I'm Dr. John Watson," he told the young boy.

At that, Sherlock spun around and locked eyes on Conan. "I need you to tell me every detail of your time in that building. Don't discount anything because I'm sure that there are deductions you couldn't make," he ordered.

Conan's eyes narrowed at this command and he took a deep breath to calm himself. He wasn't going to let this detective get under his skin by implying he couldn't make the correct deductions. "When I woke up, I observed I had been knocked out with chloroform because of the dryness in my mouth and the sweet scent. From the moldy walls and small window near the ceiling I could tell I was in a basement of an abandoned building. Someone had put a winter coat on me, and under that there was an explosive vest. All of my gadgets, aside from my phone, were still on me."

"Gadgets?" John asked, eyebrow raised. "What do you mean by that?"

It was Haibara that chose to answer this. "Agasa-hakase, my guardian, makes them for him. It's to ensure that he has some protection when he goes gallivanting off on cases."

The boy scowled at her explanation. "My glasses have a GPS feature, my belt can instantly inflate a soccer ball, and my shoes can become high powered so that when I kick an object it gets launched at high speed."

"To account for your small size, correct?" Sherlock stated, not waiting for an answer. "This way you're protected when you face off against the culprit."

"Yes," Conan answered. "Next, I turned on the map feature of my glasses to determine my location. That was when I found the pager and was instructed to call you. I quickly deduced you were a detective, and took the chance of you knowing Morse code to tell you where I was. After the call, I broke my glasses and used the lens to disarm the vest, removed it, and went to check the door."

"Wait….you disarmed a bomb?" John asked, eyes wide.

"Obviously," Sherlock said.

"It wasn't a very complicated bomb," Conan said. "Anyway, it was at that point that I met Jim Moriarty."

A heavy silence hung throughout the room momentarily before Sherlock knelt before him in an instant, gripping his shoulders. "You met him?!" he responded, but didn't wait for an answer. "Of course you did, you disarmed a bomb while under surveillance. It must have caught his interest; after all, the average person wouldn't know a thing about bombs, much less a child." Sherlock quickly rose to his feet, a grin spreading across his face as he made his deductions. He clasped his hands behind his back once more and began to talk rapidly. "A child intelligent enough to disarm a bomb would surely pique his interest. He's bored, that's why he does what he does, and he would see you as someone to compete with intellectually. Not as an opponent, no, he'd see too much potential, and want to mold you into his perfect successor. Children's values are so malleable."

A scowl had made its way onto Haibara's face and she swatted the young detective's head. "Baka! If _they_ catch wind of a criminal of Moriarty's interest in you, they'll start looking into your history, and make the connections. Everyone will be in danger," she said.

Conan felt his heart stop as he thought desperately, _'Ran!'_ "I have to call her, get her to go on a trip with Sonoko or something…Get her out of their sights," he said in panic.

Haibara opened her mouth to say something but Sherlock cut her off. "That'd just put her in more danger, yes? 'Her?' She must be someone you're very close to, intimate almost, but you don't hold her in the same level of trust as you do Haibara. She doesn't know about this group, and I'm sure there are members near her, correct?" The young girl nodded, still scowling, and he continued, "If she were to disappear that would arouse suspicion on you, and Moriarty's inquiries would confirm those notions."

"Wait just a second," John Watson interrupted, confusion clear in his eyes from attempting to follow the rapid conversation. "If Moriarty was so interested in you, how did you escape? I'm sure he'd have thought of anything…." His gaze rested on the young bespectacled boy, who was still in a right state, and he hoped to distract from what was troubling him.

"Moriarty underestimated me, and didn't know about my gadgets. While he was talking, I activated my shoes and then inflated a soccer ball and kicked it at his head. He fell to the ground and was dazed enough that I was able to run from the room and out of the building, where I spotted Haibara across the street," Conan answered. His brow furrowed. "Did you guys take out the snipers? I forgot about them in my rush to escape, but then noticed they weren't there once I was on the street."

"It was child's play," Haibara responded with a smirk, and the boy just rolled his eyes at her. She pulled out a slim cell phone from her pocket. "I'll send Agasa-hakase a text telling him not to worry."

Conan nodded at her as she began to do just that, but then suddenly his eyes widened in horror. His phones! They were both gone—both his Conan one and his Shinichi one. "Moriarty has both of my phones. With my other phone, he can discover—"

The young brunette cut him off, eyes wide as well, "And a conclusion like that would quickly spread throughout the criminal underworld, and would catch _their_ interest."

Sherlock grinned at them, eyes bright. "Well, then we better catch Moriarty before he starts putting things together. Tell me, what did you figure out…?"

* * *

**Oh no! Moriarty has Conan's "Shinichi phone", Sherlock knows about Ran's importance to Conan, and the looming threat of the Black Organization draws nearer with the possibility of Moriarty trying to discover just who Conan is. Will our favorite detectives manage to stop Moriarty before everything starts to spiral out of control? Stay tuned to find out.**

**-Emily**


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